


Beyond The Pale, No Turning Back

by Wickedtruth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, M/M, PWP, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedtruth/pseuds/Wickedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants Dean more than ever. Wants him like this, helpless and dulled, spread out for Sam to just take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond The Pale, No Turning Back

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic, written for Silverraven. Beta'd by itinerant_vae and vertias_st.

The hunt's a joke, only not the funny kind. Sam definitely isn't laughing. He's reminded that it's a stupid idea to split up when they don't know what they're hunting.

This time, it turns out to be a cult of some kind. A cult of zombies. At least, Sam thinks they were zombies. They certainly looked a few weeks dead, most of them and they seemed rather... mushy, when he shot them.

They're all dead for real now, dead and already rotting and Sam really doesn't care what they were. All he knows is that they took Dean. He doesn't remember fighting his way in, too angry and too scared and too damned worried about what they were doing to Dean to pay attention to much else but getting to his brother.

The panic doesn't stop until he finally finds Dean, strung up against a wall in the basement. The relief of finding him alive and whole hits Sam like a punch to the gut and he has to lean against the door frame until his legs stop shaking.

Dean's arms are bound above his head, so high that he's almost on tiptoe. The position emphasises the lean line of his torso and there's a wide strip of skin exposed between the bottom of his t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. The stretch can't hide the bow of his legs and even on tiptoe, it looks as though he's straddling something.

Considering the situation, the sharp twist of lust in Sam's belly is possibly the most inappropriate thing he's ever felt, which is saying something. Inappropriate or not, Sam can't deny that something about Dean's vulnerability makes him want to do all kinds dirty of things to his brother.

Sam crosses the room, trying to pretend that he's not thinking about how much he'd like to fuck Dean right here and now. His lust is dimmed when he reaches his brother, and Dean doesn't respond to his name or to Sam's touch. Sam tips Dean's head up, feeling the returning panic clawing at his throat. He's reaching for the chains holding Dean to the wall when his brother finally opens his eyes and slurs Sam's name. Dean's eyes are a little glazed, but he recognises Sam and with every passing minute, he seems to become a little more lucid.

Sam's worried about a concussion, but Dean mumbles something about being drugged and Sam thinks he catches the word 'valium', although quite why zombies would have, want or know how to use sedatives he has no idea.

He reaches up again, wondering if he can untangle the chains without having to go back to the car and get the bolt cutters when Dean turns his head and nuzzles into Sam's neck. Sam can feel Dean's lips moving against his skin as his brother mutters ' _Sammy_ '. Sam freezes, his traitorous dick hardening so quickly the arousal is almost painful.

Dean's never vulnerable, never soft and pliant like this. He's always moving, always talking tough and putting up shields, even with Sam, maybe _especially_ with Sam. God, it's wrong and twisted, but Sam wants Dean more than ever. Wants him like this, helpless and dulled, spread out for Sam to just take.

He stops trying to get Dean's hands free and instead curls one hand around Dean's throat and presses his thumb under Dean's chin, tipping his brother's head up. Dean's still a little unfocused and he doesn't fight Sam, but he doesn't help either. The kiss is clumsy and a little sloppy and nothing like their normal kisses.

Sam leans into Dean, letting his weight press his brother into the wall while he fits himself between the bow of Dean's legs. He runs a hand over the exposed skin of Dean's side, enjoying the way the muscles twitch and jump under his palm and the soft, breathless sounds that Dean's making, so unlike the stifled noises he usually fights to keep inside. He keeps kissing Dean, pushing closer until he can feel Dean's cock, hard against his thigh.

Dean's making a futile attempt to get his hands free and apparently Sam's even sicker than he thought, because he finds Dean's squirming fucking hot. It's clear from the way Dean's moving and the way he's kissing that he's becoming more aware all the time, but Sam's gone too far to stop now. He rocks against Dean, using the hand still gripping his brother's throat to keep his head in place, pressing a little harder whenever Dean seems to be trying to struggle free.

His other hand finally leaves the smooth skin of Dean's waist and he quickly unfastens Dean's jeans and shoves his hand in, curling it around Dean's cock. It's awkward and he can't really do much more than squeeze and run his fingers over the heated skin. He shifts his stance a little and finally pulls away from Dean's mouth so he can watch the way Dean's eyes half close and a pink flush creeps over his neck and spills down towards his chest.

He guesses that the friction on Dean's dick is probably a little too dry and his grip a little too tight to be comfortable. Dean doesn’t seem to care that much though, if the way he bucks against Sam and drops his head back against the wall is any indication.

Sam winces and almost stops, but Dean moans, low and throaty, almost as if he's hurting, though there's no pain in the sound. Dean arches, the movement making the muscles of his arms bulge and ripple and it's Sam who shudders helplessly when Dean spreads his legs as far as he can and rocks against Sam like a fucking _whore_. Just the thought of wrapping those legs around his waist makes Sam's dick twitch and the lust burn in his chest. He loves those stupid bowlegs of Dean's, thinks maybe it has something to do with the way they make Dean look like he just got fucked, and just fucked is one of Sam's favourite looks on Dean.

He knows that it's stupid to do this here, knows that he should make this quick, make it about relieving tension and a celebration that Dean's OK, but he probably won't ever get Dean like this again and he can't waste it.

He drops to one knee and gets one of Dean's boots off, then pulls his jeans and boxers off the same leg. He keeps Dean distracted with licks and nips at Dean's cock, knowing how his brother loves that little edge of pain sometimes. Dean's still not entirely in the here and now, eyes a little unfocused with more than just lust. Sam fumbles for the little tube of lube that Dean always carries in his pocket these days, relieved when he finds that the zombies didn't take it. He sinks his mouth down Dean's cock in one smooth motion, drinking in the sounds that Dean makes, louder and sweeter than normal.

Sam doesn't bother to take his own jeans and boxers off, just shoves them down far enough to free his dick. He dumps a handful of slick on his cock, haste making him clumsy and awkward, like he's a gangly teenager again. He hoists one of Dean's legs up, hooking Dean's knee over his elbow and uses his weight to keep Dean pinned. He's pretty sure that Dean's other foot is barely touching the ground, if at all and the realisation that he's got Dean completely at his mercy sends a guilty wave of pleasure shuddering through his balls. He uses his free hand to guide his dick into Dean.

It isn't a smooth entry; Dean's pretty relaxed, but he's had no prep and Sam, as desperate as he is, doesn't want to hurt his brother more than necessary. He gets his other hand under Dean's other leg, and lifts him, taking as much of Dean's weight as he can to protect Dean's arms and shoulders from any more damage.

Dean groans as Sam forces his way into him, then shivers all over and his eyes pop open, wide and clear for the first time since Sam found him here and Sam just prays that Dean doesn't tell him to stop because he's pretty damned certain he won't and he doesn't want to have to face what that says about him. But Dean just rolls his hips as much as he can, hands gripping the chains holding him place and lifting himself a couple of inches before dropping himself back down onto Sam's cock. It takes them a few tries to get the rhythm right, but Jesus _fucking_ Christ, when they do, it's a dirty fantasy come true.

It doesn't take long before Sam's arms and shoulders are burning as much as he thinks Dean's must be. Dean's no lightweight, but Sam's stronger and fitter than he's ever been and being able to hammer into Dean like this gives him an extra burst of stamina that keeps him going. His thighs ache, his back is a dull throb, but it's just a counterpoint to the pleasure that's blurring his vision and numbing his fingers and toes. He can feel Dean's cock, pressed between them, and he's sorry that he doesn't have a free hand to wrap around it, wanting to drag the pleasure out of his brother on two fronts. He can sense how close Dean is, knows that he just needs something extra to tip him over. The knowledge that Dean can't do anything, that his pleasure is entirely in Sam's hands is what shocks Sam in orgasm, so suddenly that he can't catch his breath, can't do anything but lean into Dean and drive his hips against Dean's one last time, pushing in as deep as he can get.

Dean's panting against Sam's neck, skin damp with sweat where Sam's touching him. He's making those breathless, desperate noises again and Sam's hips hitch, even though there's nothing left. He drops Dean's legs, not as carefully as he wants, because his muscles are screaming and all those aches that a few seconds earlier made the pleasure that much sweeter are now clamouring for his attention in the worst way. Dean hisses, and that's definitely pain not pleasure. Sam's stomach roils for a second with sick guilt, but he puts that aside as he drops back onto his knees, mouth coming down over Dean's dick. The head is slick and Sam thinks he can taste where the sensitive skin was rubbed almost raw by his shirt and it makes him want to bite but he doesn't, just works his mouth over Dean's flesh and slides a finger back into his brother's body, hot and slick with lube and come. Dean arches as he comes, voice stuttering on Sam's name.

When it's over, Sam rests his forehead against Dean's thigh. He should be getting Dean out of those chains; knows that if he's aching then Dean is probably really hurting by now, but he's afraid to face his brother; knows that he's stepped over a line and hates himself for it, even though he also knows that Dean won't.


End file.
